


Creep Me Out

by DataNianGu



Category: Psych
Genre: Dare, Drinking, Halloween, M/M, Making Out, This is trash, i can't write stuff like this for the life of me don't ask why, literally all of this is coda's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DataNianGu/pseuds/DataNianGu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Spencer, I'm an officer of the law. You'll have to bring out the big guns if you want to creep me out.”<br/>Shawn looks at him and licks his lips.<br/>“Believe me, Lassie, I will. I will.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creep Me Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slytherouts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherouts/gifts).



> inspired by a very fanfic like situation that happened to a friend's friend  
> ahahahaha it's 4 am kill me i can't even see straight anymore  
> also watch out, apparently the more tired i get the more complicated my adverbs become  
> this is pure trash  
> it started out okay and then got worse bc i'm tired

The station's Halloween party is always a good place to get heroically sloshed and do dumb things without getting arrested for it. It's why Shawn loves it so much.

Granted, Gus not being able to go puts a slight damper on it, but he has other means of entertaining himself.

Like daring Jules to compete against him  in how many shots they can take in two minutes. Currently he's winning. He has ten down already, and they're just over the minute mark. Then he gets distracted by Buzz.

The already slightly buzzed ( _Ha! Good one, Shawn! - Why thank you, Shawn!_ ) giant yells, “Detective! You came!”

Shawn looks up to see a surly Lassie walking into the station, and gets the best idea of his life.  He downs the remaining three shots in one go and excuses himself from the table. In search of a scary mask he approaches Chief Vick, who stands a little to the side and watches the bullpen in amusement.

“Hello, Karen!”

“No.”

He pouts. “You don't even know what I was going to ask.”

“Whatever it is, you won't get an answer if you call me Karen,” she points out.

“Fair enough. _Chief Vick_ , you wouldn't happen to have a Halloween mask lying around that I could borrow?” 

The Chief looks up into his hopeful, faintly glowing face and sighs. “I think McNab had one hung up at the entrance to 'set the mood'.” Shawn hisses a “Yessss” and runs off. Chief Vick just shakes her head.

 

Carlton has absolutely no desire to be here. Halloween is childish, and the time wasted on this  _party_ would be better spent catching up on paper work. Grumbling about O'Hara and her stupid invitation he makes his way toward the punch bowl he spots in the middle of the big table.

He has just poured himself a glass of 'Blood Punch (with real eyeballs!!!!)' when someone leaps at him with a loud roar. He turns around to find himself face to face with Shawn in a cheap mask.

“Spencer, what on earth are you doing.” It isn't even a question anymore at this point.

“Aw, man. How'd you know it was me?” The mask slips off and reveals Shawn, disheveled hair and flushed face included. Patented puppy eyes and pout also included.

Carlton groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Who else would it be? And I'm asking you again: What are you doing?”

“ _Duh_. I'm obviously creeping you out.” The puppy eyes vanish, replaced by a blinding smile directed at a disgruntled Head Detective. It only grows bigger.  And he gets a dangerous twinkle in his eyes as he seems to think of something.

Carlton suspiciously squints at that.

“Spencer, I'm an officer of the law. You'll have to bring out the big guns if you want to creep _me_ out.”

Shawn looks at him and licks his lips.

“Believe me, Lassie, I will. I will.”

 

Things deteriorate from here.

Carlton has just finished eating a steak from the stack of grilled meats on one of the tables. Of course, since apparently he works with uncivilized wild people, cutlery is a foreign concept tonight, so his fingers are practically dripping with marinade and barbecue sauce. He's about to lick them clean (because napkins have left the known universe and don't exist anymore), when Shawn just kind of materializes in front of him.

“Hey Lassie.” Carlton has never heard this tone of voice from Spencer before.

“Would it creep you out if I sucked your fingers clean for you?” His eyes are much darker than usual, and they only seem to darken further when Carlton shakes his head.

“Like I said. Bring out the big guns.” If he's being honest, it does freak him out a bit, mostly because it's more than a little disgusting.

But those thoughts just evaporate into thin air.

Because Shawn unceremoniously drops to his knees right in front of his chair and crowds into his personal space.

He takes Carlton's hand in his own like a delicate flower.  Then he smirks up at Carlton and doesn't break eye contact for even a second as he slowly closes his lips around the detective's  index and middle finger. As his eyes close Carlton's fly wide open, because Shawn  _sucks_ .

It looks sinful.

And then it gets better. Shawn actually _moans_ around the fingers in his mouth as if they're the best thing he's ever tasted.

Carlton enjoys it more than he likes to admit. Certain parts of him definitely like it more than they should. Namely his dick, who gives a half-interested twitch in his pants at the sound and sight of Shawn Spencer enthusiastically lapping at the leftover sauce.

He's glad he chose a more isolated seat, away from the crowd.

After what seems like an eternity Shawn sits back and grins at him, pupils blown wide.

“You creeped out yet?”

Lassiter barks out a laugh as good as he can. “I don't think  _that_ is the word I'd use.”

Shawn's grin turns diabolical. He stands up and grabs Carlton by the tie, tugging him into one of the interrogation rooms down the corridor. They aren't even halfway into the room when he turns around and drags Lassiter into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.  Carlton stumbles through the door and throws it shut, backing Shawn into the wall to return the kiss fiercely.

“Yes, there we go.” Shawn's voice is gravelly. It goes straight to Carlton's dick.

Shawn's hands start fluttering over his shirt, undoing the buttons to sneak over the bare skin underneath. He only stops when Carlton moves away from his mouth to  travel down his neck,  trading exploration for breathy little moans.

“Let's get out of here. I don't want the Chief busting in on us, or worse, McNab,” Carlton finally rasps out. Shawn shudders and nods frantically.

 

Later, afterwards, as they lie in bed together, Carlton looks down on him and grins, “Just so you know: I'm still not creeped out.”

 


End file.
